Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Spring Break 2015

I was raised in the 50’s in a neighborhood that would have made Leave it to Beaver proud.  Instead of watching a lot of TV we mostly played outside.  In fact, aside from a random game of Monopoly, ALL of our play was outside. And, as much as I tried with my granddaughters-- with a fabulous playhouse, swing set, and a trampoline-- they would only stay outside for short spells and only then if there was an adult with them. I guess they’re just citified, addicted to TV, cell phones and laptops.   I long ago despaired of getting my grandkids comfortable outside. I worried that they would never know the luxury of doing absolutely nothing yet at the same time living a new adventure in the midst of each moment.

Until this week.

No sooner did their bags hit our floor than they were hiking along the creek in the rain.  And it was a cold rain.  They never complained about the cold.  They never complained about the rain.  I sensed a good spring break ahead.



Sarah’s best friend, Savannah, is here with us.  Savannah has been such an integral part of our family for so long that I mentally set a place for her at Thanksgiving last year before I remembered she has her own family. 

Essie asked if I could help her make a bookcase to house her growing library.  We got the lumber yesterday and put most of it together this morning.  Then we went into town to buy paint.  I left the two high school sophomores alone at the house confident that they could take care of themselves.  There was enough ice cream to keep hunger at bay.  Enough DVDs of great movies plus cable.  At any rate, they had already gone outside for another great hike when we left. Essie sent Sarah a text saying where we had gone.

We came home to find this:




Beaver Cleaver meets Tom Sawyer. They had found an inflatable raft that I thought we had thrown away a long time ago--because it leaks.  Not leaks as in taking on water.  Leaks as in deflates and stops being buoyant.  But they didn’t seem to mind.  They periodically took it out of the water and re-inflated it with the air compressor.  I had to admit pride at this talent.  How many high school girls know how to work an air compressor?  Or even know what one is?

My initial thought, when I came home to find them, was that they had taken up a water sport without anyone, adult or child, anyone who they could call to for help if they needed it.  Then I remembered that our pond is about three feet deep--max.  And, even though the rain has filled it to capacity, it was still shallow enough that they could stand up in it.  So I decided to not worry.

Essie painted the inside of the bookcase.  We’ll finish assembling it tomorrow and paint the rest.

There’s no wisdom today.  Very little wit, either.  Just a few words to let you know I didn’t forget.  Maybe I’ll have more to report next Wednesday.

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